Fix You
by AnnCarter
Summary: Even when she's not there, Cuddy always finds a way to fix him. And even when he's alone in a burning house, trying to deal with Wilson's death - she knows how to help him. [House finale "Everybody Dies" fic.] (Still not sure about the name, though)


_All rights for House M.D are David Shore's and Fox's. I own nothing._

 **AN:** The only missing piece from this oh so perfect episode. And yes, we just watched it in our office-rewatch.

* * *

"House."

He looked up from where he was lying on the floor, his right hand resting against his thigh as his left held him - not very successfully - above the wooden floor of the house. He has seen Kutner and Amber - and even Stacy - but he didn't expect to see her. He didn't expect to see her anywhere, ever again. He knew it was his mind, just like the rest of them where, but he didn't believe he'd be seeing her even in his mind. Even there, she hated him.

"Go away." He rolled over, pretending not to see her. Which, all things considered, was an idiotic move - as she proved by disappearing there and reappearing in front of him.

"I'm not gonna leave." Unlike the others, she remained up, looking at him from what felt like miles away.

"You're not even here," He pointed out, his voice sarcastic, before closing his eyes. His right leg felt as if it was burning, but he didn't care. With no Vicodin, no heroine and nothing to stand between the warm floor and his damaged muscle, he knew it would happen. But that was the least painful thing to him in that moment.

"Therefore I can't leave."

He rolled his eyes, not even noticing he opened them. "Fine, if you want to be logical, go ahead."

"You know it's not logical." She kneeled down by his side, her fingers gently touching his leg. It wasn't the one that was hurting, but her touch – even if it was nothing but a hallucination - felt right. It felt _better_. "None of this is logical. Death isn't logical."

"Death is neither logical nor illogical." He pointed out. "But arguing with yourself – _that_ isn't logical. Actually, that's just plain stupid."

"I've known you for a long time, House," Her voice was softer now, "And I've seen you being so many things. But I've never seen you being stupid." He didn't respond, and she continued quietly, "You were a jerk, a liar, a child, a messed up, screwed up person, but you've never been stupid."

"Thanks." His voice was cynical.

"Get up."

"Yeah, I think I'll pass. But thanks for stopping by." Rolling over again, he closed his eyes, determined to keep them closed now.

Her next question made him open them again.

"You want to know why I broke up with you?"

His eyes immediately found hers. He felt vulnerable in a way he hasn't felt since he crashed into her house. "Why?" His voice was quiet but hoarse. Pain filled his pure blue eyes – pain, which for the first time since the surgery, was purely emotional.

"Because of this."

He stared at her for a heartbeat before mumbling, "Very specific, thanks." Closing his eyes again, he rolled again so he was lying on his back, his palms resting against his chest.

"Stacy loved you." Her voice was soft once again. "I love you. Wilson loves you."

"I tried to avoid having sex with him exactly to make sure that wouldn't happen," He replied, cynical once again.

"House… I still love you. I never stopped loving you."

"You're only saying that because you're in my mind."

"But sometimes other people matter. Sometimes other people _should_ matter." She ignored him, continuing in the same soft tone. "And sometimes you have to _choose_ to let others matter."

"That doesn't even make sense."

"You're a coward." He stared at her as her tone turned slightly colder. "You always have been. You could've just been there for me from the beginning, but you decided to avoid choosing to be there by waiting until it was all over and you wouldn't have to choose."

"I-" He started, knowing he had nothing to say to that. She was right. His subconscious was right.

"And now you're doing the same to Wilson." He opened his mouth to speak, but she didn't let him. "You're choosing not to choose, because that's what you've always done."

"If I'm choosing not to choose, then technically I _am_ choosing."

"You're rationalizing and pretending that's not what you're doing, even though you know you are." He closed his eyes, trying to think quietly, just for a moment. "You're always so good telling everybody they're cowards and pathetic but when it comes to you, every behavior is legit, isn't it?"

He sighed. "What else am I supposed to do?" He asked quietly, no longer masking his pain behind the sarcasm.

"Be with him," She replied simply.

"I can't." It came out as a tormented whisper, but he didn't mind. His eyes opened automatically and his blue eyes met her green ones, begging for her help. "How am I supposed to go be there for him when the moment I'm be outta here they'll send me back to prison?"

Her hand gently cupped his cheek, her thumb almost touching his lips. He closed his eyes as she helped him sit up, enjoying the touch. Even with the flames around him in that moment, he could almost believe he was safe. He could almost believe she was real.

"You have a plan. You always do." Her voice was soft and quiet.

He shook his head slightly. "No, not this time."

She remained silent. Unsure whether she was still there, he opened his eyes. She was still in front of him, looking at him softly, her faith clear in her eyes. He could almost believe she still loved him – the real Lisa Cuddy, not the one in his mind.

"I know you have a plan," She said, still looking into his eyes.

"If you're inside my mind, then you know I don't have one." He mumbled, somewhat confused and unsure what to do. "You… you know I don't have a plan this time."

"I know you do."

"I…" He stared at her, still confused. "I do?

She smiled softly and nodded. "Of course you do."

He opened his mouth to ask her what his plan was, when she gently pressed her lips against his forehead. His eyes automatically closed and his hands grabbed her wrists, trying to stop her from disappearing when the time comes.

But when he opened his eyes again, she was gone. He looked down for a long moment before managing to get up and heading towards the door, his right hand rubbing his once-again-hurting right thigh.


End file.
